


Projectile

by Lacanthrope



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: And anything but empty, Dark, Gen, deep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2013-01-31
Packaged: 2017-11-27 15:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lacanthrope/pseuds/Lacanthrope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the quiet ones you have to watch out for</p>
            </blockquote>





	Projectile

When they prep you in basic, they tell you a lot of things. They tell you about how small and unworthy you are, how your very existence is simply a means to an end. They tell you about the blood and the fear. Things they forget to mention on the propaganda posters that fill colonial kids' heads with words like "victory" and "glory". They tell you all of these things to prepare you for war.

But they never tell anyone about the darkness.

In between the blood, and the fear, there's always darkness. It's in the moments when the all-clear sounds and for a moment everything is silent. Absolutely mind-shatteringly silent. Then the pitch and roar of the engines jolt and you flinch a little bit, thinking you just dreamed it up. It's in the moments when your starfighter kicks into seven G's and your mind shuts off the pressure crushing you into your seat. It's in the space between you and the bunk above after lights out and you've got nowhere to run except your own mind.

Most of the recruits couldn't handle it at first, the earth-born ones at least. Basic isn't anything like Earth and its eternal fluorescent buzz. It's more like the colonies: dark, brutal, and hopeless. The first night was when you picked them out. They were the ones that broke down first, so desperate to escape the void that they filled it with sobs and whimpers. I made sure to look them right in the eye first thing the next morning. They were always quiet after that.

But then you get shipped out to a battleship, something big and bright and deadly. There isn't supposed to be darkness on those ships. Battleships are supposed to be pillars of light gliding through the cosmos, a solid shelter from the darkness that crawls into people that stare out at it for too long. I had seen it happen in the colonies; people ripping their shelter-mates apart in a sightless panic, nothing left inside of them but darkness and fear. Sometimes candlelight and stuttering electricity isn't enough.

But the darkness still finds places to hide. Most of which I've found.

There are things in the dark that you can't find anywhere else. Sometimes they're just whispers, small details, and sometimes it's the only place to hide because nobody else can handle it.

The others try to ignore it. They leave the lights on. They hurry through the shadows. They shut their eyes, pretending like the darkness pressing between their eyelids and irises is better than the one writhing outside. But I know better.

Like when the lights go out in the lift and the only other person is a fighter that has cruel, fiery eyes focused on you. At first there isn't anything but silence and darkness then his hands are on you. He whispers something in your ear, but something whispers louder on the other side. I had sometimes heard the same whispers back on the colonies, the same ones that drove the others to tear each other into pieces. When the lights come back on, his grip is gone and so is he. I know all the places maintenance never checks.

They tell you that you're fighting against the enemy, against the Colterons, but they're wrong. Your greatest enemies in a war aren't the bullets and the things that fire them at you. It's the little whispers when you stand behind someone in a lift and you can see their vertebrae and blood vessels pushing against their skin and you finger the blade hiding in your sleeve. It's the creeping darkness on the edges of your brain, the one that pushes you to do unspeakable things in order to survive.

It's all the things they never tell you.

**Author's Note:**

> Deimos puts the ass is mass murder.


End file.
